Before continental drift, Pangaea’s
land mass resembled a slumped anteater
sitting on its rump. You housed areas
around the neck, front paw, posterior’s
entire stretch. When The New World severed free
from West Africa, you were caught wading
near Miami; became stamped émigré
a hundred million years before Founding
Fathers and green cards. Now you hide out near
Tallahassee, under wet forest leaves
in Oregon and Washington. You veer
away from light, like timid monks or thieves,
a humble arachnid avoiding fame,
form small as the dot on “i” of your name.
Roger Armbrust
September 1, 2007
